


Agent Carter Flash Fics

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, I Blame Tumblr, yet more things that are mostly Daniel's inner thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: I am too lazy to upload these separately - flash fics originally posted to tumblr.(see katiekeysburg.tumblr.com/tagged/flash-fic for original posts)Chapters as follow:1. Prompt: Daniel is a virgin or insecure about his leg (Dec 2015)2. Prompt: Tumblr musings about what happened after Daniel got Peggy off the rebar that impaled her (interstitial for 2.5 The Atomic Job) (Feb 2016)3. Gif prompt:  Daniel looks at Peggy's discarded clothing while she changes behind him.  (interstitial for 2.8 The Edge of Mystery) (June 2016)4. Gif prompt: Peggy eating lunch with her feet up on her desk (July 2016)5. Jason holds Peggy at gunpoint and Daniel makes a decision (Jan 2017) (interstitial for 2.8)6. Jack Thompson packs for boot camp (Jan 2017)7. Daniel watches Peggy at the punching bag (April 2017)





	1. Daniel is insecure about his leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if you are still taking prompts or not for Peggy/Daniel, but what about one where he tells Peggy he's a virgin or that he's insecure about his leg? Loved the other story you wrote!
> 
> -anonymous ask on tumblr

Daniel had no idea how he ended up here. It was amazing how often he found himself thinking that in the last few years. First, it was waking up in an European infirmary, surprised to be alive and devastated to be missing a leg. There was more than one time when things went right–-or wrong–-working for the SSR, like when he found himself standing over Jack Thompson, laughing in relief, his hand aching from decking Fenhoff. Recently, there was the first time he sat at his desk in L.A., behind a brand-new, gleaming nameplate reading “Chief Sousa.” At the time, he thought it would never get any better than that.

This blew them all away. 

It wasn’t just that it had been too long since he flicked his tongue teasingly along soft lips, or slid his fingers oh-so-slowly up and down a soft thigh to unclip a garter. It was the woman in his arms, warm and strong and apparently very enthusiastic. As he rolled down her right stocking, Peggy turned, throwing her other leg over his knee so he could get to the other one. Meanwhile she started in on his shirt buttons, her haste making it more difficult than it should have been. He had her other stocking off and was tracing patterns back up her leg by the time she made it to his belt. This was progressing much, much faster than he anticipated and when her hands went for his buckle, he pulled back, breaking their kiss.

“Peg,” he gasped. Her hand stilled, and she looked up at him with dark eyes. “I– I haven’t–”

“Ever?” she asked softly, her voice gentle.

“Not since–” he looked down to his right side, where his crutch leaned against his couch. She slid her hand down his right thigh, stopping just above where his prosthetic started. She gave a little squeeze he could barely feel through the scar tissue. He nodded. She brought her hand to tip his chin back up, leaning to kiss him hard, almost bruising in intensity. He couldn’t help his answering moan and he felt her lips curve up as she drifted away.

“You know I don’t care,” she whispered. “Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” 

He swallowed thickly. “Go into my room?” he asked. “Get under the covers. I’ll be there in a moment.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and stood. And she walked slowly toward his bedroom door, her hips swinging exaggeratedly as she caught the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. She dropped it in a chair as she went by, and stopping in the doorway to look over her shoulder at him. She gave him a wicked smile, and then vanished into the room.  
He almost dropped his crutch, his hand was shaking so hard. He took a deep breath, and followed.


	2. Rebar - between Roxxon and Violet's house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Sousa got Peggy free from that rod. Did she cling to him as they made their way to the car? Did she grip his hand in the car. Did he hold on to her as he tried help stop the bleeding all the while barking at Samberly or Jarvis to drive quicker? Was his heart in his throat as he felt/saw Peggy shake?  
> \--fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com
> 
> 2.5 interstitial

He was cold. Why was he so cold? Peggy’s blood was hot where it gushed against his hand, through the fabric. The windows were fogging from the humidity… He wasn’t being carried on a litter through a freezing hospital tent. He was in a car, pelting through Los Angeles, at his instruction, but he was still shivering. His leg was aching, more fiercely than it had in ages. He could feel his heartbeat in the stump, keeping time with the gushes from Peggy’s wound. Peggy was hurt, not Daniel, but it felt like the sky was falling, like losing a piece of himself all over again. Her hands clenched his lapels, like she was afraid she was going to drift away from where he held her. 

No.

He’d follow her to the Underworld and back, if he had to.

When had sunny LA become Hades? Become war?


	3. Jeez Peggy why'd you leave your unmentionables laying around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you think that man knows what he’s getting into? Do you think he looks at those lacy, silky scraps of fabric and dares imagine what it’d be like to take them off Peggy Carter? IS DANIEL READY FOR THIS? --em2mb.tumblr.com
> 
> 2.8 interstitial

“He’s a man in love,” he responded, not knowing if Peggy heard him. He needed to focus. What was the address of that restaurant Manfredi owned? They couldn’t go back to the office to get it, not with Vernon there. 

His eyes caught on silk and lace again. 

They haven’t talked. There hasn’t been time. It might not even be necessary, after what passed between them in the surveillance van. 

Behind him he heard the soft susurration of fabric, and hangers clicking. 

If they weren’t in a hurry, he’d go in there and help her. He’d say her name when he turned around, so he wouldn’t surprise her. He’d let her read his intentions in his eyes, now that she was ready to see what had been there all along. 

Their lips would meet and he’d let her drive, keeping it light or deepening the kiss as she desired. His hands would be busy on buttons and clasps until his fingertips could skim whatever silken garment lay under that practical pantsuit, the warm swell of her body underneath. If they didn’t have to go stop Whitney Frost, he’d put everything he had into getting Peggy as riled as she got him. 

He heard a soft sigh from other room, like she could hear his thoughts. He swallowed. 

The chaise lounge in front of him would be far too convenient not to use. If his ribs weren’t cracked he could lay her right there. His good leg could stay on the floor, and he’d tuck his right thigh under hers. Pull her against him…

He shifted his hips uncomfortably as Peggy strode back by him, wearing new clothes. His ribs protested the movement. She didn’t look at him as she called over her shoulder.

“Do you have the address?”

He gave one last glance at the chaise before following her back down the hall.

“It’s downtown…”


	4. Ladylike and Peggy do not go in the same sentence - nwcostumer.tumblr.com

It shouldn’t be so appealing.

They were little moments and Daniel found himself waiting for them. Holding his breath when they happened. Moments where she just seemed to forget. She forgot the British stiff upper lip, she forgot to act like a lady.

And Peggy just _was_. 

Not an agent, not a woman. Just a person. Warm and breathing and not too far in space from his own body. There wasn’t as much of it as there used to be, but when she forgot, and just started to be, his started to thrum. Just as alive and hale as it had ever been.

Or more.

She dropped crumbs from her lips, stumbled over invisible obstacles. Her tongue cut lashes in the other men before she could stop it. If she knew they were watching, she was poised. She started fights with a target in mind, controlled and precise. Until the inevitable happened and time and gravity and inertia made themselves known. They bled the grace from her motions, leaving a riot in their wake.

He knew about unruly bodies. They could hurt, but when freed they could soar.

He wasn’t sure Peggy had found that kind of bliss. Daniel was pretty certain she had spent most of her life fighting the rising tide, unable to face being swept away. 

He wanted to teach her to float.


	5. Jason holds Peggy at gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2.8 interstitial

His heart sinks when Jason turns the shotgun on Peggy. Daniel’s fingers twitch, remembering the sensation of warm blood seeping through a handkerchief. It had been mere days since he had almost lost her. The thought losing her now–of more ruined and torn flesh–is too much to bear. Not now, when there is a glimmer of hope. His hope must have doomed them, betrayed them to Jason. It doesn’t matter what she says. It doesn’t matter that moments ago they were rescuing Jason. Even if her stubbornness and Jason’s desperation just push them back here, to the brink. It doesn’t even matter that thousands other may die instead. Daniel thinks of how it felt to watch her fall.

There’s no choice to make.


	6. Jack packs for bootcamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that Jack's father never wanted him to enlist and that Gam-gam is his most supportive family member.

_January 1942, The Thompson family Washington DC residence_

Twenty. Twenty one, plus two quarters, three dimes… Twenty-one dollars and eighty-three cents should be enough to get him through to payday. It was a small fortune, but he worried it wouldn’t last long if he had to start buying drinks. Then again, they probably wouldn’t have time in the first few weeks of training. Buying rounds had been an easy way to make friends in college, but boot camp was probably going to call for a little more creativity. 

Jack was so intent on counting his money, he didn’t notice when his grandmother entered the room.

“How’s it going in here?” Gam-Gam eyed his bulging duffel bag disapprovingly. She walked over to where it sat on the bed and started pulling everything back out.

“Fine. How’s it going out there? Pop still locked in his study?”

“Yes. He took dinner in there and everything.” Gam-Gam shook out the items he had crammed in his sack, precisely rolling them before tucking them back inside. “I wouldn’t count on seeing him before you leave.”

“Maybe never again,” Jack mused darkly. If Pop wanted it to be that way, it was fine with him. If his father wouldn’t see him, he couldn’t lecture him either.

Gam-Gam made a small sound and kept re-packing his bag. There was actually a tear in her eye, and he suddenly felt ashamed.

“He’s having a hard time understanding,” she said. “Why enlist in the Marines, of all your options? He could have easily gotten you into Army Intelligence or the SSR, if you had only asked.”

“More likely he would have forbidden me from signing up, rather than help.”

“Even he knows that wouldn’t have worked. You’re a man now.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve been back from college over a year, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he treats me. Besides, I’m not concerned with doing what he thinks befits my station. I want to fight. Not skulk around with the spooks in the shadows.”

“It could be worse, I suppose,” she said. Everything fit neatly into the sack now, no bulging. “At least you won’t be pushing a mop around some old tub, waiting to get blown out of the water. What time’s the train?”

“Leaves at 0600,” he said. “Probably make it to Parris Island by lunchtime.”

“Well, regardless of what my stubborn son feels, I expect you to write me every week. At least a postcard. Understood?” The iron in the woman’s voice could not be ignored.

“Of course, Gam-Gam.” At least he’d have one person hoping for him to come home.

“And let me know when they send you up to Quantico for officer’s school. I’ll come visit.”

“If they even send me to OCS, I’m just as likely to end up at Lejeune.”

“We’ll see,” she said. It made him feel a little better. Pop wasn’t likely to get one moment of peace until she got her way or he finally shipped out. Time would tell if Pop had enough clout to make her happy.

And if Jack could measure up to his own expectations.

“Alright, give me a hug.” They stood up, and he had to bend down a little to wrap his arms around her. She seemed smaller than ever before.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Come home safe, or I’ll be disappointed. You wouldn’t disappoint an old lady, would you?”

“No, Gam-Gam.” He felt her slip something in his hand before she turned for the door.

He looked down at a crumpled five dollar bill, eyes burning. Then he tucked it into his wallet with the rest of his money and started looking for his stationery. There was a little room in his bag.


	7. Punching bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There should be epic poems written about Peggy Carter hitting things, this is the best I can do.

When he pulled up to the house, only the living room light was on. There may have been a glimmer coming from his daughter’s room in the upstairs corner that he resolutely ignored as he climbed out of the car. If Stephanie was reading under the covers again, she would probably stop once she heard him come through the door. Daniel frowned at the darkened windows of the front room they had converted from a dining room to a study. It was rare that he was the one working late. On those limited occasions, Peggy could usually be found that room at the foot of the stairs should either of the children wake, where she could work while watching for his return.

The house felt warm and a bit stuffy compared to the growing chill outside. Inside the door he paused and listened. A semi-rhythmic thumping interspersed with soft rattles gave Peggy away.

He set down his briefcase and eased off his jacket before heading down the hall and into the kitchen. The back door opened into the yard and light streamed into the dark kitchen from outside. He didn’t miss the pizza boxes stacked next to the trash as he stepped up to the doorway.

Outside, Peggy had dragged the heavy bag from the shed into the near middle of the backyard. He stopped on the inside of the screen door and took a moment to watch his wife. 

She hadn’t bothered to change clothes before heading outside, but had her hair up in a hasty braid where it would be out of the way. She must have been pummelling away for a little while, as her forehead had beads of sweat gleaming in the light from the back porch. Not too long yet either, as her form remained crisp, her punches accurate. He watched her punch and kick in a sequence as familiar to his own body as breathing, as he had performed it himself–and taught it to others–again and again. Power and frustration both welled from a body he knew as intimately as his own, focused and applied as force to the bag again and again. 

Peggy finished her sequence and paused to catch her breath, arms still up in a ready posture. “How long are you going to stand there and watch?” she asked.

“Until your form deteriorates,” he replied. “Unless you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong?” The punching bag only came out at night when she had a problem and had not yet discovered a solution.

She apparently was not. Rather than speaking, she started the sequence over again with renewed verve. Daniel leaned against the doorway and waited. It didn’t take that long, just two more sequences, about five minutes total. Then she hauled the bag back to the shed and locked it. He had a glass of water ready when she came through the door, but she ignored it in favor of kissing him soundly. He liked to tease her that she didn’t kiss him like they had been married over a dozen years. 

She did talk to him that way, in their own ever-evolving shorthand. “All quiet on the home front,” she said, which meant the kids were fine. 

“The director’s work is never done?” he asked. If it was managerial issue, she wouldn’t share it with him, because employee matters were confidential.

She laughed a little, understanding the question. “True, but not the issue tonight. No, this probably could use your eyes, but it can wait until morning. I’m going to clean up and then I’d like to get reacquainted with my husband.”

“Lucky guy,” Daniel said.


End file.
